


they run and laugh at legends (when all else turn to sing) REMIX

by vulturer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Multi, Ouroboros Mix Lightning Round, dave rapping in iambic pentameter, sexy knights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulturer/pseuds/vulturer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>our journey's long, of twists, enlightening<br/>but underneath our skin; love, frightening</p>
            </blockquote>





	they run and laugh at legends (when all else turn to sing) REMIX

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sour_Idealist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the legends will sing a different song (and oh how they'll laugh then)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6046) by Sour_Idealist. 
  * Inspired by [When All Else In You Turns and Runs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/246308) by [Sour_Idealist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist). 



> I jumped and shrieked in delight when I got these fics as my remix assignment, they are just _so good._ I ended up mashing them together because I couldn't choose just one! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, Sour! Thanks for letting me play.

______________________________________________  


sit down young lad and shut your flapping lips  
or if thee be a lady calm your tits  
for here stands quite the knight with quite the tale  
to tell spell sell each salient detail  
from sweeps of sundial shadows spent in stride  
while behorned hierarchs demand abide  
and firm accordance with history's teachings  
such nonsense, rancid piles of hoofbeast leavings  
so 'fore i descend to a rancorous  
disposition, down right cantankerous  
just sit ye down and have some more liquor  
read, burn, forget this, better yet ignore

i walk i ride i fight by night by day  
by morning evening noontide, see the way  
things truly be, a sickening display  
of horror, terror, base naivete  
kings forget to gaze gutterward, so i say  
may they dismay fade fray and stray away  
from these worn yellowed pages i shall sear  
with ruin, with my blood red fires, with clear  
thoughts, with the knowledge i have gathered, with  
new eyes, widened pupils, distrust of myths  
that hold no water, leak and soak my hands  
with cold shocked logic i now understand

i write this sick and feverish with sight,  
blindsided kicked and picked up and despite  
my hesitation to just speak, to write  
my fears my loves my tears, i shall recite  
them all, i shall, i owe it to the ones  
who took me broke me told me never run  
from them, though i could see they felt the same  
the raw and bleeding cuts the ties the games  
we played saw entered fought and aimed to beat  
i'll speak of those and also of defeat  
our journey's long, of twists, enlightening  
but underneath our skin; love, frightening

as steady as my sword stays, even, keen  
and as my steps flash forward, back, between  
the perfect lines i've painted, taught by kin,  
it took just two to wholly do me in

i met the green knight first, with hair as black  
as midnight, strands of starlight down her back  
i faced her in a duel, announced en masse  
to rogue knights, and she kicked me like an ass

—+—

  


The chorus of shouting — countless throats open in wild glee peppered with whistles and the bellowing of drunken men — seemed to ebb and flow like waves of a distant ocean as she parried a downward streaking cut from a silver sword held by a faceless knight. Her opponent. He was quick. Quick to side-step her counter slash, quick to raise his nicked buckler to catch a blow, quick to spin and somehow dance in his worn and heavy chains, plated feet kicking up dust in a cloud that ghosted around them as if a veil fluttered in the air. She couldn't hear him breathe and that thrilled her; he was a match for her, finally, the first in dozens.

This was her drug: the thrill of a fight. The dampness of sweat in her hair in summer, clouds of white hot breaths in winter, the burning of acid in her arms and legs, the bruises on her skin, the scars on her hands, the calluses on her feet, the way she was allowed to scream and push and fight for _once_ and not have to worry because it was all right. Too often she was forced to be stoic and stand straight, to act like a proper knight when all she really wanted to do was act like herself. She wanted to run, she wanted to gallop with Becquerel and feel her stomach drop as he leaped over fences, she wanted to fall in love and then fall into bed, she wanted to pick flowers. She wanted to laugh and kiss and drink with trolls, not bow to every one that passed by.

He thrust and she twisted, green-dyed fabric pulled by her hips and whipping around her thighs as she turned and struck and the hit rang out like a broken bell. He grunted. There sounded a clap of deafening shouts, surprised and begging for blood; he stumbled, _an opening!_ She kicked him square in the chest which was the dirtiest of fair moves and she laughed as he tripped backwards with an _oof,_ dropping his sword to catch his fall. When he looked back up from his seat on the ground, his eyes followed the flat side of a scratched blade, connecting his throat to her gloved hands. The arena was in pandemonium and the duelists were still.

"Cheater," he said, voice hollowed by metal, and she clicked her tongue.

"Says whom?" she replied and sheathed her sword to free her hand, which she held out before her in accord. The cheers from the crowd were victorious and thrilled as he grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. A dusty footprint dirtied the crimson cloth over his chest. He left it there. After a pause — mutual appraisal between two mercenaries on display for dozens of tournament lovers, trolls and humans alike — she reached up and pulled off her helmet, shaking free the tangled strands that stuck to her forehead. What rose up from the arena seats was no single or unique sound, but a mindless cacophony of roaring, a veritable explosion of wordlessness.

She stared at the red knight only, breathing fast and half-smiling. When he finally followed suit, she let her grin pull wide and unfettered. Under all that silver and red was a blonde; handsome, tired, and impressed. She caught the briefest glimpse of a tiny smile before he took a step back and bowed deep, deeper than expected, deeper than all of her past defeated opponents, down through tradition into genuine respect.

She bent at the waist in return and she had never heard a stadium echo with such thunder.

"Fancy a drink, sir knight?" she called to him above the cheers as he bent to retrieve his sword. With a liquid movement, he wiped the blade clean of dust on his arm and sheathed it, turning to answer over his shoulder before he made his exit.

"Only if you are treating, Milady Champion."

"Greedy bastard!" she laughed and jogged after him, to which he shrugged loosely.

"Says the one who stole my winnings."

—+—  


she could out drink a horse, if so inclined  
i knew, throughout, that i would never find  
another one like her, life drunk and kind,  
hell bent on living wild, lips stained with wine

—+—

"Come with me, Sir Strider," Jade said the morning after the tournament, baring her large teeth in a smile full of mischief and knowing. The weight of her purse had tripled; not a single person at the inn could best her at a game of horseshoes, even after she was three mugs of mead deep. She had hung on Dave's neck and laughed and laughed and laughed, kissing him, pulling him off of his bench to dance, doing everything she could to make him crack and he had, completely, right down the middle. She had tasted of spirits and the sky and they had fallen asleep on the floor three feet from the bed, still clothed, bruised, blissful.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere! I was born to travel and I declare that you should join me. Look, even your horse agrees!" she pointed out with a laugh as Dave's horse _("This is Crow," "You named your horse... Crow?" "Yes," "...You are so odd!")_ nuzzled Becquerel, a black coat against dusty white, and he hummed.

"Well, in that case..."

"Come with me. Two merry vagrants without a home."

"All right."

"Hurrah!"

—+—  


but free, no, soon she and i would forfeit  
our errantry, bow before, and submit  
to a tealed blood, she was the second one  
that took my hand, then rendered us undone

—+—

"I have watched you both," the small-bodied, small-horned troll said with a sharp voice, snapping out her consonants the same way she rapped her dragon-headed cane against the cobblestones. She had approached them on a massive grey horse after a small tournament that they had taken by storm after three weeks of traveling together, hopped down effortlessly, and had made a sound of lighthearted distaste when they knelt to the ground before her. They stood back up, glancing at each other briefly before looking over to see a wide, jagged-toothed grin and figure practically vibrating with excitement. "You are very good fighters!"

—+—  


her leather armour, brown, adorned with teal  
and flecks of red did little to conceal  
her vicious frame, her arms and legs of wire,  
wood branches, teeth torn, masked in rich attire

—+—

"We do try, milady," Jade said. The troll was staring at the space in between Dave and Jade, looking cheerful and cunning.

—+—  


and in her skull, two coals plucked from a fire  
burning hot and angry, fair, conspired

—+—

  


Her eyes, sightless.

—+—  


hungry to expire with ire those sires  
who slobber clutch and foul her dear empire

—+—

"Clearly!" she chirped and sniffed the air. "Can you do anything else?"

"Not a single thing," Dave answered quickly and she giggled, laughing wide through her teeth. It was rasping, brilliant, and not a little eerie.

—+—  


her tongue was sharp and quick to bite us both  
and bait us with the offer of an oath

—+—

"Who do you serve?"

"My horse!" Jade answered flippantly, grinning. The troll nodded and turned her eyes in Dave's direction. He patted his own steed's neck.

"My bird."

"Ah! And what would your horse and your bird say to serving another?"

"They would ask who that might be," Dave said.

 _"My_ horse! Of course."

"For how much?"

"One thousand caegars. Each."

That stopped them. Both had sworn themselves to wandering, spilling their blood for nobody but themselves (and each other), riding from town to town, kingdom to kingdom. They had received offers of allegiance before, but none had ever been this sincere. They met each other's eyes and then looked back; the troll was no longer a smiling stranger but an enemy of the most dangerous kind, and a friend of the most powerful. She knew it too; her unseeing stare contained a cleverness that would cut through when it made contact. Jade and Dave could feel it come close to their skin.

"To what end?"

"To _the_ end."

And suddenly, a fatal wound didn't seem so bad if it came from her. Dave felt pulled and Jade felt scared, both thrilled, both curious. This troll, this highblood could have been mad, could have been twisted and it likely wouldn't have mattered. It was too late; they had stared into the basilisk's eyes and were her stones. She reached into her pocket without further explanation or introduction. Her posture (regal, wise, but snakelike, poisoned, quick) said enough.

"Here is your first payment, to share between you."  


—+—  


and quickly Jade threw out her hand to catch  
a silver caegar, old, two heads, one scratched

—+—

She was calm and watchful, the duchess Terezi Pyrope, clever and sharp as her horns. With just those sparse words, she held them both, mind and soul, in a concealed pocket against her chest. The very moment the village folk saw her, infamous teal-blood rising judge, with the underdog human knights who kept fighting and kept winning in tow, words spread like an airborne plague. The mild scandal of it was enough kindling to light the fire and the excitement about what it could mean was enough to keep it burning, spreading across towns in a brushfire of chatter. The more weeks passed, the stronger the rumors became until the caravan of three became twisted by whispers; once a simple triumvirate, now legends.

The exchanged words between the knights and their lady were few at first, reverent and testing, but the ice was soon melted by heated time and then, and then, _and then!_

—+—  


something in her hooked us, something silent  
something like a futile flee from judgement  
something like a pool of feared respect and  
something that we would never understand

though we would try, oh would we, after dark  
we would converse and try to pull remarks  
that would allow us glimpses in her cracks  
but once we got inside, no turning back

—+—

Then there was water.

—+—  


pulled us deeper, closer, blotting outside  
forces, guiding pushing clashing, and tied  
entangled, ruled by Pyrope, duchess, keeper  
of our swords, cutting throats, once ours, twice hers

—+—

The duchess, once stripped of all her regalia, was but a troll with her own honed wit. Only the color of her blood was any indication of her status and even that seemed trite when compared with her _self._ Her whole and total self, with a personality a hundred times her height and strength belied by her skeleton, held between two bodies, but holding them steadfast in return. Her ridged, sharp-knuckled hand was cool in Jade's palm. This tiny, short-haired troll was truly more daunting than any gladiator that Jade had faced, than even animals in the arena cages. Dave's hands slid along the thin cotton at Terezi's waist and even now, even at her most vulnerable, even with her eyes clouded in crimson, she could stare down a dragon.

Spurred by joyous music made of pan flutes and gitterns and the scraping of chairs and shouted conversations, they rocked together as one made of three, feeling the curves of muscles and the jutting of bones in the dimness of their rented room. When pressed so close, Jade couldn't help but breathe them in, the bitterness of damp troll skin, musky and strange, mixing with leather, metal, soap. One candle flickered on a small wooden table and the door was locked.

They could not stop this if they tried. As Jade leaned to kiss Dave's parted lips, Terezi's head fell back on her shoulder as she arched her spine, and the noise of the bar just barely covered up the rushing in her ears. Only Terezi's sightless eyes were closed and there was something chilling about that. Jade watched Dave watch her as they covered Terezi with their hands and she could see that he was just as unnerved as she. This slowed them _none;_ they were in a twisted tandem.

When Terezi's hand reached to grab hold of a shoulder, Jade gasped because it _hurt,_ her nails were so _sharp,_ but Terezi just laughed softly and leaned back. She clenched a fist around Dave's tunic and pulled, claiming him, and this time he closed his eyes. Their kiss was slow and careful and Jade watched them intently, recording every detail as her fingers threaded with Dave's. She slid her free hand underneath Terezi's chemise and the shudder that followed shook her to the very core, plus a sharp exhale from Dave, plus Terezi's reptilian skin absorbing their heat, plus a world in full tilt as they crashed.

"You may _never_ leave me," Terezi snarled and her half-lidded eyes looked truly demonic in the candlelight, deep and hellish, as red as the blood she owned.

"As if we ever had a choice," Dave whispered into her chest.

"What the red knight says," Jade returned and Terezi squeezed hard enough to draw blood, making a pleased noise deep in her throat that would chill any weak-willed human to their marrow.

As it was, her humans begged for more.

—+—  


a merry band of mischief-makers three  
wild, unaligned, a flippant cavalry  
who steal from pockets packed with minted gold  
beware, they have more horrors left untold  
and other voodoo things clung to our heels  
personally, they all held some appeal  
they carried quite a ring, a lasting mark  
that would reverberate when we embarked  
though with them followed every brand of hindrance  
tangents testing each thread of Jade's patience,  
she rolled her eyes, blamed fate; to us she stuck  
replied our queen, there's no such thing as luck

we rode through forests, mountain passes, towns  
and fought, won, earned all treasures save the crown  
our lady, bless her heart, had tasted pride  
and liked the flavor, making her decide  
to enter in the Grand Melee, her guild  
i dare say she will surely get us killed!!

—+—  


BUT 1 KNOW, Y3S, TH31R M1NDS L41D B4R3, 1 S33  
1 KNOW W1TH SUR3TY WH4T TH3Y C4N B3!


End file.
